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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862928">simple, impossible things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13'>arysa13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>prompts filled (bellarke) [44]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Halloween, Humor, Masturbation, Porn Star Bellamy, Sex Work, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, Witches, ghost bellamy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:14:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke buys a dildo modeled off famous porn star, Bellamy Blake. It also happens to be haunted by him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>prompts filled (bellarke) [44]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/592417</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bellarke smut</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>simple, impossible things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Who_Needs_Reality/gifts">Who_Needs_Reality</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Halloween!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There isn’t a lot to do in a town with a population of only fifteen hundred people. The nearest cinema is an hour away, and so is the closest shopping mall. The main street of Gallows Hill consists of a post office, a small grocery store, a bakery, and a sex shop.</p>
<p>Clarke has frequented the former three over the past two weeks she’s been living here, but she’s yet to try the sex shop. Mostly because she’s met the woman who owns it, and Gaia creeps her out, with her soft, sensual voice and her gothic look. The fact that their first meeting had occurred when Gaia interrupted the mayor, Dante Wallace, trying to persuade Clarke to join their church, to invite Clarke to join her <em>own </em>religious gatherings didn’t help either.</p>
<p>But Clarke has explored every other inch of this town, including both the bar and the church, and she’s bored as hell on a Saturday afternoon, having run her Netflix options dry.</p>
<p>A bell tinkles as Clarke pushes the shop door open and steps into Gaia’s House of Fun. Right away she is confronted with a mostly naked, female sex doll, sitting on a chair with its legs spread open. Clarke starts, thinking for a split second that it’s a real person.</p>
<p>“Clarke,” comes Gaia’s melodic voice, and Clarke looks over to see the woman sitting behind the counter, reading a battered copy of some old erotica.</p>
<p>“Nice display,” Clarke says, nodding to the sex doll.</p>
<p>“She’s on sale,” Gaia says. “Getting some new stock in soon. Are you interested?”</p>
<p>Clarke looks at the doll, with its lifeless, gaping expression. It doesn’t really do it for Clarke. “No, thanks,” she says. “I’ll just have a look around.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Gaia says. “We have more sale items on the back wall. One of a kind stuff in there too.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Clarke says. She wanders around to the back of the shop, partly because who doesn’t love a good sale, and partly just because Gaia can’t see her back there.</p>
<p>The stuff on sale is mostly bondage accessories, handcuffs and blindfolds and whips and the like, none of which Clarke has any use for. At least not at the moment, when she doesn’t actually have someone to use that stuff on her.</p>
<p>There are a few vibrators and dildos though, and Clarke picks up a few to inspect them. There’s a box with a picture of an extremely hot, naked guy on the front that catches her attention, and she takes it from the shelf.</p>
<p>
  <em>Modelled on famous porn star Bellamy Blake! </em>
</p>
<p>She snorts out a laugh. She’s never owned a dildo that was actually modelled off a real person. She doesn’t watch much porn herself, preferring her own imagination, so she doesn’t know if this Bellamy Blake is big in the porn world or not. He looks good on the packaging though.</p>
<p>It’s fifty per cent off, and Clarke decides, why the hell not, and takes it up to the counter.</p>
<p>“Good choice,” Gaia says.</p>
<p>“I bet you say that to all your customers,” Clarke says, rolling her eyes.</p>
<p>“Nothing in my store isn’t a good choice.”</p>
<p>“How do you stay open, anyway?” Clarke asks. “Is there a lot of demand for a sex shop in such a small town?”</p>
<p>Gaia smirks. “You’d be surprised. But I also do tarot readings and seances.”</p>
<p>Clarke smiles politely. She sincerely doubts Gaia’s tarot readings and seances are bringing in a whole load of dough. Clarke taps her card against the card reader, and Gaia bags up her purchase.</p>
<p>“Enjoy,” she says knowingly, and Clarke happily leaves the store.</p>
<p>She feels weird about randomly masturbating in the middle of the day—mostly because in this town her neighbours have a habit of dropping by unannounced, and she doesn’t want to be caught halfway through. So she waits until after dinner, when it would be considered rude to visit someone without having been invited over. She’s slowly learning the etiquette around here.</p>
<p>She unboxes her new toy, feeling her stomach swoop when she looks at the picture of the porn star on the box. He really is that hot. She has half a mind to look him up later to see if he’s still doing porn. She might find something to fuel her fantasies.</p>
<p>For now though, she lubes up the dildo—the incredibly large dildo, FYI. She’s having trouble believing it’s modelled off a real dick. Maybe he got a penis enlargement or something, to help with his porn career. That’s a thing, right?</p>
<p>It’s flesh coloured—the same brown as his naked skin on the box, maybe a little darker. Plus, she notices as she’s running her hand over the silicone veins and ridges, it’s dotted with a few tiny freckles. Whoever made this product really paid attention to detail, and she’s not complaining about that at all. Other than its almost unbelievable size, it’s the most realistic looking dildo she’s ever owned.</p>
<p>She plays with her clit a little, and her nipples, warming herself up, but truthfully, she’s already pretty wet and ready, having been thinking about this all day. She slowly inserts the tip of the dildo inside her, then slides it back out, and in again, further this time. It’s thick as well as long, so she’s trying to work herself up to getting the whole thing inside her.</p>
<p>She finally pushes it all the way in, then lets it sit there for a moment, her cunt pulsing around the huge thing. Fuck, she feels full. No wonder he became a porn star with a cock like this.</p>
<p>She starts to fuck herself with it, gradually building up a pace, while her other hand toys with her clit lazily. She’s not in a hurry tonight, so she can take her time teasing herself.</p>
<p>She gets herself right to the edge, gasping, biting her lip to keep from going too far as she indulges in a little fantasy in which famous porn star Bellamy Blake gets lost in the middle of nowhere and ends up knocking on her door for directions then fucking her senseless when he sees how completely irresistible she is.</p>
<p>She lets the pent up, throbbing feeling ebb a little, then goes to start thrusting again. Only before she actually gets a chance, the dildo seems to start thrusting of its own accord. She jerks her hand away, startled, and the dildo keeps going, slowly sliding in and out of her pussy with no assistance from her.</p>
<p>She frantically tries to remember if the box said the dildo had some sort of mechanical properties, but she realises that even if it does, she didn’t put any batteries in. She’s about to rip the dildo from her cunt and throw it across the room, because honestly, she’s a little spooked, but then it somehow kind of changes the angle—an angle she can’t quite get when she’s using her own hands to work it—and she lets out an elongated moan of pleasure.</p>
<p>The seemingly possessed dildo picks up the pace then, and Clarke lets her head fall back against the pillow, her back arching into it. She stops questioning it and lets herself enjoy it—it’s been a long time since she let somebody else do the work, and she’s worked up enough by now that she just wants to come.</p>
<p>With her now free hands she plays with her tits, pinching and twisting her nipples, the dildo rhythmically pounding into her with a force she would not be able to muster on her own. She’s back on the verge of orgasm in minutes.</p>
<p>“<em>Yes</em>,” she cries. “Right there, oh my god.” She’s still picturing the porn star on top of her, and honestly, it kind of feels like porn star fucking right now, with her tits bouncing obscenely from the force of the dildo’s thrusts, and her moans much lewder than they ever are when she’s alone.</p>
<p>She reaches her breaking point, her toes curling as she squirms on the bed, her hands squeezing her breasts so hard she’s afraid she’ll leave fingerprint bruises on them. The dildo falls limp between her legs.</p>
<p>As she starts to regain her senses, the feeling of alarm returns. She grabs the dildo from between her legs and holds it out from her body, eyeing it warily. Once she’s decided it isn’t going to come to life and attack her, she holds it closer to her face, studying it. Definitely no place to put batteries. It looks like a normal, porn star inspired dildo.</p>
<p>She grabs the box from where she discarded it on her bedside table, and looks for any piece of information than might tell her why the dildo had seemed to come to life as she fucked herself with it. All she can find is some cleaning instructions and brief biography of Bellamy Blake, including a list of some of his films.</p>
<p>Frustrated, she tosses the box aside and gets up, throwing on an oversized t-shirt before heading to the bathroom. She leaves the dildo in the bathroom sink to clean later, pees, then heads back to her room and grabs her phone from her bedside table. The only thing left to do now is Google to see if anyone else has had the same strange experience she had.</p>
<p>That’s not to say it was a <em>bad </em>experience—the orgasm had been very satisfying. But she’s not the type of person to let a mystery go unsolved. There has to be a rational explanation for this.</p>
<p>She opens Google and types in <em>Bellamy Blake dildo.</em></p>
<p>The first result is an article from two years ago, announcing the release of a line of dildos modelled off famous porn stars. As Clarke reads, she realises that there aren’t any other Bellamy Blake dildos—it was part of an exclusive line, only one copy made from each participating porn star. Clarke can’t help but wonder how the hell something so rare ended up in a sex shop in some backwoods town in nowhere Louisiana. And why Gaia was selling it for so cheap.</p>
<p>She goes back to the search results and keeps scrolling—her heart stops when she sees the next one, this time from about a year ago.</p>
<p>
  <em>Porn Star Bellamy Blake Dead at Age 28. </em>
</p>
<p>Clarke swallows thickly, an inexplicable wave of grief for this man she never met surging over her. Twenty-eight—only two years older than she is now. So young—so in the prime of his life. She clicks the article and reads through it to find out how he died. Car accident—alleged drink driving. No one else was hurt.</p>
<p>Clarke puts her phone down, lump in her throat. She’s not sure why she feels so sad over the death of a porn star, someone she didn’t know, would never have met, never even knew who he was until today. She has no idea if he was a good person—perhaps he was a horrible misogynist and/or a homophobe and maybe he got what was coming to him. Maybe she should judge him for the drunk driving—after all, he wasn’t only putting his own life in danger that night. But all Clarke feels is sorrow—sorrow for a life taken too soon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gaia’s sex shop is closed on Sundays, but Clarke knows where to find her. A church service of sorts—held in a clearing in the woods. When Gaia had tried to persuade Clarke to join this alternative religious group, Clarke couldn’t help but feel like it sounded more like a cult.</p>
<p>Gaia hadn’t founded the cult—uh, religion. She’d moved to Gallows Hill specifically to join it, after trying several other religions, including Catholicism and Wicca. They pray to some woman named Becca. Sounds like the lamest God ever to Clarke.</p>
<p>Clarke tries to sneak in to the service—is that what it’s called if it’s not in a church? However, it’s obviously quite a small religion, and the twelve other people there, including Gaia, immediately notice her crashing through the underbrush as she makes her way into the clearing.</p>
<p>“Uh, hi,” Clarke says, waving awkwardly at the group of women staring at her.</p>
<p>“Clarke,” Gaia smiles. “Glad you could make it. Join us.”</p>
<p>Clarke joins the circle—she hopes this isn’t going to be a kind of get naked, hold hands and dance around picking wildflowers kind of religion. She recognises all of these women and she does not want to have to look them in the eye after she’s seen them naked.</p>
<p>Gaia gives a sermon of sorts on new life, reincarnation, retribution, spirits, and the underworld. It’s a ride. Clarke doesn’t believe any of it, but it’s a fun story. When the service is over, and the other women start to leave—but not without giving Clarke a hug first—Clarke hangs around so she can speak to Gaia.</p>
<p>“So glad you decided to come, Clarke,” Gaia says, once they’re the last two standing in the clearing.</p>
<p>“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Clarke says. “I came here to talk to you about the thing I bought yesterday, actually.”</p>
<p>“No refunds on sale items,” Gaia says quickly. “Especially if you’ve used it.”</p>
<p>“I’m not trying to return it—it’s just—is there anything—<em>weird </em>about that particular product that I should know about?”</p>
<p>“Weird in what way? I mean, you already know it’s modelled off a porn star, isn’t that weird enough for you?”</p>
<p>“A dead porn star,” Clarke says flatly.</p>
<p>“If I told you he was dead you wouldn’t have bought it,” Gaia says. “Why do you think I had to mark it down? No one wants a dead guy’s penis inside them. Unless you’re into necrophilia. Are you? Because I know of some porn—”</p>
<p>“<em>No</em>,” she says emphatically.</p>
<p>“Listen, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me exactly what’s going on here.”</p>
<p>Clarke lets out a defeated sigh. “Okay,” she relents. “Last night when I was using it, it kind of seemed to, I don’t know—take on a life of its own.”</p>
<p>Gaia’s eyes light up. “Ooh, a haunting. Haven’t had one of those around here in a while.”</p>
<p>“A <em>haunting</em>?”</p>
<p>“His spirit is probably attached to it. He died suddenly, he most likely has some unfinished business. And it makes sense he would attach himself to an object that meant a lot to him while he was alive,” Gaia muses.</p>
<p>“His dick, you mean.”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>Clarke backtracks. “Okay, but <em>haunting</em>? <em>Ghosts</em>? You can’t be serious.”</p>
<p>Gaia bristles. “Of course I’m serious. And it’s <em>spirits </em>not <em>ghosts</em>,” she huffs. “Didn’t you listen to anything I said earlier?”</p>
<p>“But that stuff isn’t real.”</p>
<p>“You asked me for an explanation, and I gave you one,” Gaia says haughtily. “You’re free to find your own if you don’t like mine. But perhaps you better not come back to another gathering if you’re not going to be more open-minded.”</p>
<p>With that, she stalks off into the forest, leaving Clarke to find her own way back into town.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clarke stares at the dildo, and it seems to stare back. It’s standing upright on her dresser, looking perfectly average. Well, as average as a ten-inch porn star inspired dildo can look. It certainly doesn’t look <em>haunted</em>. Not that she has much experience with things that are haunted.</p>
<p>She’s spent the last hour watching videos of Bellamy Blake absolutely railing petite women with his huge cock, playing with herself the whole time. Everything about him is sexy—his body, his hands, his face, his <em>voice</em>. While she’s glad she has a whole back-catalogue of his to make her way through, she’s kind of distraught that he’ll never make anything again. He was good at his job. <em>Really </em>good.</p>
<p>Now she’s dripping arousal onto her thighs, her cunt throbbing desperately around nothing, aching for something inside it. Even something potentially haunted. She gathers up her courage and plucks it from the dresser, not bothering with lube this time. She’s wet enough that she doesn’t need it.</p>
<p>She drags it along her pussy lips, tilting her hips upwards, then nestles the tip just inside her entrance. She’s sitting up, legs spread, staring at the massive thing between her legs.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she says, feigning a calmness she doesn’t feel, “if you’re there, and you can hear me, you can take it from here.”</p>
<p>She’s not really expecting anything to happen. Ghosts, or spirits, or whatever, don’t exist. She knows this.</p>
<p>But then the dildo is pushing itself inside her, and her hands aren’t even touching it.</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” she gasps, the dildo sheathing itself inside her with one expert stroke. She’s not sure if her reaction is horror or pleasure. On one hand it feels amazing. On the other hand—what the fuck?</p>
<p>The dildo continues to fuck her of its own accord, and Clarke falls back against the bed, biting her lip to keep from moaning, her eyes fluttering closed. Pleasure is definitely winning out.</p>
<p>“Do you like that?” comes a voice, deep, whispering in her ear, reverberating through her bones. Her eyes spring open. She can see no one, but she’s sure she didn’t imagine the voice. She recognises it as Bellamy’s voice—how could she mistake it when she heard him utter that very same phrase only minutes ago?</p>
<p>“Yes,” she whimpers. “Don’t stop.”</p>
<p>She begins to feel feather-light touches on other parts of her body—a whisper of a hand on her breast, and one on her waist. Lips on her neck. Nothing quite real though—she’s not even sure if it’s her imagination or if she can actually feel the ghost of Bellamy Blake touching her.</p>
<p>The dildo thrusting into her is <em>definitely </em>not her imagination. He pounds into her harder, although still not quite as hard as she saw him fuck his co-stars.</p>
<p>“Tell me what you want,” he grunts.</p>
<p>Clarke is sure this should be freaking her out more. After all, she’s being fucked by a ghost of a dead porn star—not exactly normal. But maybe it just feels too good, and maybe she just doesn’t care how weird it is, as long as he keeps making her feel like this.</p>
<p>“I want—” she moans, “I want to see you,” she says.</p>
<p>“Open your eyes,” he says. She doesn’t remember shutting them again.</p>
<p>She blinks them open, and there he is, on top of her. There, but not there. She can’t see through him, but there’s also something not quite earthly about him as well. Like the air around him kind of shimmers, like he could disappear at any moment.</p>
<p>“Bellamy Blake,” she breathes. He slows his thrusts right down again. Clarke feels like she’s run a marathon, and he doesn’t seem to have even broken a sweat. She’s not sure if that because he’s a ghost or because he’s a porn star.</p>
<p>“You can just call me Bellamy,” he grins. His smile almost makes her heart give out. “And you are?”</p>
<p>“Clarke,” she manages through her ragged breathing. “Clarke Griffin.”</p>
<p>“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Clarke,” he says, grinning devilishly. Could this get any weirder?</p>
<p>Clarke doesn’t have the patience for this—she wants to come. They can chat later, when she’s thinking straight and she doesn’t have his cock inside her.</p>
<p>“God, just fuck me, please,” she groans. He obliges her.</p>
<p>His hands feel more solid now, as her grabs her wrists and pins her down beneath him. His thrusts are practiced and powerful, and Clarke knows she’s going to be left aching after he’s done.</p>
<p>She comes, clenching around him, arching her back so her tits press against his chest, a silent moan on her lips. She doesn’t know if he comes—can ghosts orgasm? He stops thrusting as soon as she starts coming down from her high, but he stays inside her.</p>
<p>As she regains her sanity, she truly begins to realise how fucking weird this whole thing is. She looks up at him, heart thrumming. She’s not scared—it’s a little late for that. But what does one say to the ghost of a porn star who just fucked you?</p>
<p>“Are you real?” she asks him. “Or am I imagining all this?”</p>
<p>“I think I’m real,” he says. “I feel real.”</p>
<p>“And you know you’re—”</p>
<p>“Dead? Yes, thanks.”</p>
<p>“Oh. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Why are you sorry? It’s not like you killed me. It was my own stupid fault,” he sighs.</p>
<p>Clarke shifts. She’s acutely aware of his massive cock still inside her, stretching her open. She feels a blush creep over her cheeks, and she reaches down between their bodies to wrap her hand around the dildo. She cannot have this conversation with him while she can feel him pulsing inside her.</p>
<p>“Um, sorry, but can we—” she pulls him from her cunt. And then he’s gone. Evaporated into thin air. Her stomach tightens. “Bellamy?” she calls. Perhaps he just went invisible again. But there’s no answer.</p>
<p>Disappointment swims in her gut. She really had wanted to talk to him. She feels drawn to him—she’s desperate to know about his life. But maybe he hadn’t wanted to talk. That’s fine, she can give him some space. She’ll try again tomorrow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He appears again, as soon as the dildo slips inside her.</p>
<p>“You disappeared on me,” she says.</p>
<p>“Sorry about that. Not on purpose. I can’t seem to materialise of my own volition—it’s like I’m here but not here. I’ve spent a year lingering in the ether, unable to communicate with anyone. Not until you,” he says.</p>
<p>She’s not naked this time—she’s just got a skirt and top on, had removed her panties when she got home from the post office so she could sit on the sofa and put the dildo in her pussy.</p>
<p>“Until I put a model of your cock inside me, you mean,” she points out.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he snorts. “It seems you have some kind of magic pussy.”</p>
<p>“That should be the plot of one of your pornos,” she laughs, but then his face falls, and she stops, her stomach dropping. Right, it’s not like he’ll ever make another porno. “Sorry,” she whispers.</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” he says. “Do you want me to fuck you?”</p>
<p>“Eventually,” Clarke says. “I don’t know, I kind of just wanted to talk to you. Find out more about you. Using the dildo is the only way I could think of to get you to appear.”</p>
<p>“Hard to have a normal conversation when my cock is inside you, though,” he says. A shiver runs up her spine.</p>
<p>“I like you inside me,” she responds huskily. His breath hitches and she throbs around him. She likes that she has the power to turn this man on. Someone who while he was alive probably had more sex in one year than Clarke has had in her entire life.</p>
<p>“It’s a little strange though, isn’t it?” he smiles.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Clarke feigns ignorance. “This is all completely normal to me.”</p>
<p>He laughs, and Clarke’s stomach flips over. She hadn’t expected a porn star—or a ghost, for that matter—to be so fucking adorable.</p>
<p>“You know what’s strange?” Clarke muses. “Apart from everything about this?”</p>
<p>“What’s that?”</p>
<p>“That you’re so easy to talk to,” Clarke says. “Like, you’re a ghost, and a porn star, and you’re so hot—”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he interjects.</p>
<p>“And we literally just met. When I bought a dildo modelled off your cock and you appeared inside me. And yet, it’s like I’m talking to an old friend.”</p>
<p>“I know what you mean,” he says. “I feel like I was supposed to meet you. That you were meant to be the one to buy the dildo.”</p>
<p>Clarke laughs. God, this whole thing is so surreal. And yet it feels so completely natural to be with him.</p>
<p>“Did you know who I was?” Bellamy asks. “When you bought it?”</p>
<p>“No,” Clarke admits. “I never really watch porn. I thought it was kind of funny, and Gaia had put it on sale, so I bought it.” He seems disappointed. “Also, I liked the picture of you on the front,” she adds.</p>
<p>He smiles, satisfied. “Can I fuck you now?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She takes him in the bath with her the following night. Angles the dildo so it’s entering her from behind, so when he materialises, she’s leaning back against his chest, instead of the cool ceramic bath tub. She likes the way his big arms circle around her.</p>
<p>“Can’t get enough of me, huh?” he says, lips brushing against her ear. Butterflies swarm in her stomach. She’s not sure she’s ever had a crush this bad before.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to stop?” she asks.</p>
<p>“No,” he says. “You’re the only tether I have to the real world.”</p>
<p>“Is that the only reason?”</p>
<p>“Well,” he says, and she can hear the smirk in his voice, “that, and I really like fucking you.”</p>
<p>Clarke squirms on his cock, and his hips jerk. He grunts, and Clarke hums happily. His hand drops between her legs, and he plays with her clit until she comes on his cock. He’s nowhere close to coming—he has incredible stamina, so she’s learned.</p>
<p>“Why are you here?” he asks her.</p>
<p>“I thought a bath would be nice.”</p>
<p>“In this town, I mean. You don’t seem like the rest of them.”</p>
<p>“I grew up in the city,” she admits. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s some sort of rebellion. Mom wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer or something. We weren’t exactly close after my dad died. After seeing what that kind of high-pressure job did to both my parents, I didn’t want it. I wanted a slower life.”</p>
<p>“That’s understandable.”</p>
<p>“And then I had a really bad break up, and I just needed <em>out</em>—and I saw this house for sale and it was <em>so </em>cheap, I guess because it’s kind of falling to pieces and it’s in the middle of nowhere. So I bought it with the money my dad left me when he died, and here I am.”</p>
<p>“Weren’t you worried it was haunted?”</p>
<p>“I don’t believe in ghosts.”</p>
<p>“And now… you’re an artist?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Clarke says. “I sell my art online, buy all the supplies online. I still have a little bit of money from my dad, so I’m doing okay.”</p>
<p>“I watch you draw sometimes,” Bellamy says. “I know you can’t see me, but I’m there. Is that creepy?”</p>
<p>“I feel like it should be, but it’s not.” She actually kind of likes the idea of him watching over her. Instead of feeling creeped out, it makes her feel safe. “What about you? What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think I had much choice in the matter.”</p>
<p>“But aren’t you supposed to like—go into the light or something? Move on?” she ignores the sick feeling in her stomach that appears when she thinks about him moving on. She’s not ready for him to go yet, she’s only just getting to know him.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” he says. “They don’t exactly give you a ghost handbook when you die.”</p>
<p>“Spirit,” Clarke corrects him.</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“Gaia says you’re a spirit, not a ghost.”</p>
<p>“What’s the difference?”</p>
<p>“I have no idea,” Clarke snorts. There’s a small, comfortable silence before she speaks again. “So, do you have unfinished business?”</p>
<p>“Well, I haven’t come yet, so—”</p>
<p>“Bellamy,” she huffs. She opened up to him—something she really doesn’t usually do. It just shows how much she already trusts him, after only knowing him a few days. She wants him to open up to her too.</p>
<p>“I mean, how could I not?” he sighs. “I still had so much I wanted to do. I didn’t want to do porn forever. I was doing a carpentry apprenticeship. I really liked building things. And then I fucking screwed it all up. One stupid fucking mistake.”</p>
<p>“It was a car accident, right?” Clarke asks gently.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he says, his voice thick. “I was drunk. I knew I shouldn’t drive, but I was just so fucking upset that night. I got fired from my apprenticeship because a client recognised me from my <em>other </em>work. And it was the anniversary of my mom’s death, and my sister wasn’t speaking to me. It was just all so shit. I don’t know—maybe I got into the car hoping it would happen. That I’d just die, and I wouldn’t have to deal with it all anymore.”</p>
<p>Clarke sucks in a breath. “I’m so sorry,” she says. She turns to look at him. His face is wet with tears, and Clarke presses a gentle kiss against his cheek.</p>
<p>“Don’t be,” he says. “It was an asshole move. I could’ve killed someone else. And I regret it now. There’s nothing like dying to make you realise how much you want to live.”</p>
<p>Clarke is crying too now. God, he feels so alive to her, most of the time she forgets he’s not. That he’ll never get to make amends with his sister, never get to become a carpenter. Never fall in love again, get married, have kids. It isn’t fair.</p>
<p>“I know what it’s like,” she whispers. “To wish you’d just die. To feel like you deserve to die. But you didn’t, you know that right? It wasn’t fate or karma, it was just a stupid decision and fucking bad luck. And I wish it didn’t happen.”</p>
<p>“You don’t deserve to die either,” he says. He kisses her. They’re both still fucking crying, but they both need this kiss—something meaningful and passionate. Clarke twists her position with some effort, so she’s straddling him instead, and then she’s riding him, feeling a more intense desire than she’s ever felt before.</p>
<p>The water ripples around them as she rocks back and forth on his cock, and he thrusts up into her. Their mouths meet again, wet and messy, both gasping, clutching at each other. They come at almost the same time, Clarke just seconds before he does.</p>
<p>She collapses on top of him, and he wraps his arms around her. They stay like that until the bath water goes cold.</p>
<p>“You need to get out,” he eventually whispers. “You’ll get sick if you stay in a cold bath all night.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want you to go,” she says weakly. Is it pathetic how attached she is to him already?</p>
<p>“I know,” he says, brushing the curling tendrils of blonde hair away from her face. “But you need to look after yourself first.”</p>
<p>Clarke nods, knowing he’s right. She slips the dildo from her cunt, and he disappears. She feels like crying all over again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clarke has never spent so much time masturbating. It’s not that she’s horny all the time—although she is horny a lot more often—it’s just that she enjoys his company, and the only way to get that is to use the dildo. The sex is fantastic, obviously. He’s literally a pro. But sometimes she catches herself wishing for more. She wishes they could eat together, stroll down the street together hand in hand, hold each other without it having to be anything sexual. The kind of things he could do if he were, well, her boyfriend. If he were alive. Simple, impossible things.</p>
<p>She knows she shouldn’t get attached—he’s a literal ghost. Or spirit, or whatever. But she can’t help it. All she wants to do is spend time with him. Listen to him talk, laugh. Tell him about her life, her day. Kiss him, hold him, fuck him.</p>
<p>It’s probably because he has no human contact with anyone else, but he’s always happy to see her. He’s so attentive, more so than anyone else Clarke has ever been with. It’s selfish, but Clarke loves having his undivided attention. Loves knowing she’s the only one he’s with. She pushes away the guilt she feels at knowing he has no choice in the matter—if it means an eternity of loneliness, or a few hours with Clarke a day, of course he’s going to choose Clarke.</p>
<p>And maybe she should be trying to help him figure out how to move on—after all, what will happen to him after she’s gone? No one is going to want a used dildo, and then what? He’ll be stuck in limbo forever. But she needs him too much, can’t bear the thought of him leaving her.</p>
<p>She takes to wearing the dildo at any opportunity. She’ll keep him inside her as she falls asleep, only to find he’s slipped out during the night and is gone in the morning. She’s filled with him as she showers, as she paints, and she watches TV. When he’s inside her she feels whole, and without him she’s empty, her cunt and her heart aching for him.</p>
<p>It’s sick, and unhealthy, and pathetic. She knows all this, and yet she doesn’t stop. He doesn’t ask her to stop. It goes like this for weeks, and she knows undoubtedly that she’s falling for him. Of course it would be her fucking luck to fall for a dead guy. Maybe Gaia wasn’t that far off with necrophilia thing—that doesn’t extend to spirits, right?</p>
<p>It’s October now, and the trees are getting barer. Halloween decorations have been put up in the main street, and in people’s yards. Clarke doesn’t put up any decorations. She already has her very own ghost.</p>
<p>She’s naked, in the hammock in the backyard, in the afternoon sun—it’s still warm enough, thank god. People don’t really drop in on her anymore—she’s lost her sense of novelty, and nobody really claimed her as a friend. But perhaps that’s her own fault—she’s too wrapped up in Bellamy to make time for anyone else.</p>
<p>She has him inside her, and she feels full and content. She doesn’t want things to ever change. But of course, they always do.</p>
<p>“Clarke,” he whispers, brushing his hand over her hair. He’s lying behind her, spooning her. “You know this can’t last forever, right?”</p>
<p>She stiffens, and her stomach clenches. “What are you talking about?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know. All she’s doing is delaying the inevitable.</p>
<p>“At some point you’re going to have to let me go.”</p>
<p>She feels a lump form in her throat, and tears form in her eyes. “You’re sick of me,” she deduces. “You want to move on.”</p>
<p>“It’s not that,” he sighs.</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” Clarke barrels on, before he can continue to try and deny it. She’s blinking back tears at the thought of him leaving her, but she doesn’t want him to feel guilty about it. “I get it. There’s probably loads of hotter women in the afterlife, why would you stay here when I’m your only option?”</p>
<p>“Clarke,” he says fiercely. “Please don’t think that. Don’t think I’m only here with you because I don’t have a choice. The things I feel about you—I never felt that way about anyone before, even in life. If we’d met while I was alive—”</p>
<p>“Don’t say it,” Clarke says. There’s no point in dreaming about what ifs.</p>
<p>“I’d stay here with you forever if I could,” he says softly. “But it’s not healthy for you. I’m not real, Clarke. At least, not in the sense I need to be to really make you happy. You deserve someone who can give you a real life, not a shadow of one.”</p>
<p>“But I love you,” she says, her voice cracking.</p>
<p>“I know,” he says, his voice soothing. How does he know? She never told him before. “And I love you. But the longer we pretend it can last, the more it will hurt when it ends.”</p>
<p>Clarke nods. As much as she hates it, she knows he’s right. She has to let him go. Not for the reasons he said—she doesn’t care about her own stupid life. But if there is some kind of afterlife, or a second life, waiting for him, then he deserves to be able to see it. She’s got to stop being selfish.</p>
<p>“I’ll see if Gaia knows how to get spirits to move on,” she says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clarke goes back to the sex shop. The mayor, Dante Wallace, is walking out just as she goes in. She tries not to stare as he nods at her nonchalantly, barely making eye-contact.</p>
<p>She pushes the door open, and sees Gaia stocking a shelf with bottles of lube. The sex doll is gone—evidently someone took advantage of her low price. In her place is a garish Halloween display. A poster of a man with a bull’s head fucking a woman with wings, a selection of black plugs and vibrators, and a mannequin in a sexy witch costume.</p>
<p>“The <em>mayor </em>shops here?” Clarke says, unable to contain her incredulity.</p>
<p>“Try to be discreet, Clarke, please,” Gaia says, not even bothering to look over at her.</p>
<p>“Right,” Clarke says. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>“How’s your haunted dildo?” Gaia asks. She places the last bottle of lube on the shelf and walks by Clarke on the way back to the counter.</p>
<p>“About that,” Clarke says. “I, uh, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I was rude. I just—didn’t think things like that were real.”</p>
<p>“Apology accepted.”</p>
<p>“I need your help.”</p>
<p>Gaia snorts. “Of course you do. Let me guess, you want to bring him back to life?”</p>
<p>“No, I—” she stops, staring at Gaia. “Is that possible?”</p>
<p>Gaia shrugs. “Theoretically. Is that not what you were going to ask?”</p>
<p>“I was going to say I want to help him move on. But—but if you can bring him back—that would be better.”</p>
<p>“I’ve never done it before,” Gaia says, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “But I’ve always wanted to try. It has to be done on Halloween. That’s when the veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest.”</p>
<p>Adrenalin surges through Clarke’s veins, and hope blooms in her chest. Sure, it sounds insane—bringing someone back to life. But a few weeks ago, the concept of ghosts sounded insane to her as well. Why shouldn’t they try?</p>
<p>“What do I need to do?” Clarke asks eagerly.</p>
<p>“We need the haunted object. And a life force.”</p>
<p>“Okay, the haunted object I can do. What’s a life force? Like a human sacrifice?”</p>
<p>Gaia blinks at her. “What if I said it was?”</p>
<p>Clarke shrugs. “There are people I’m sure the world wouldn’t miss.”</p>
<p>“You’re full of surprises,” Gaia deadpans. “It’s <em>not </em>a human sacrifice. Just something with enough energy to bring him back to life. Theoretically a sacrifice would work, but it wouldn’t need to be human. A small animal would do. A cat, or—”</p>
<p>“I’m not killing a cat.”</p>
<p>“Okay, Miss <em>there-are-people-the-world-wouldn’t-miss</em>.” Clarke rolls her eyes, while Gaia pauses, considering. “I have another idea.”</p>
<p>“Let’s hear it.”</p>
<p>“Since the object in question is of a sexual nature—perhaps if you could both reach orgasm at the height of the spell, that would be enough energy to give him life.”</p>
<p>Clarke doesn’t hesitate. “Okay,” she agrees. All she has to do is fuck him, and he comes back to life? What is there to question?</p>
<p>“Great!” Gaia claps her hands together. “Meet me in the clearing in the woods at 11pm on Halloween, bring the dildo. I’ll take care of the rest.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clarke stands in the middle of the clearing, holding the dildo. She feels like an idiot. Gaia isn’t here yet, and Clarke wonders if this was just some elaborate prank to get back at her for mocking Gaia’s religion.</p>
<p>The moon is waxing gibbous—bright, but not quite full, and its light filters through the bare branches on the trees surrounding her. She breathes a sigh of relief as she sees Gaia’s figure step into the clearing. Her approach had been a lot more silent than Clarke’s own trip through the forest.</p>
<p>“You have it?” Gaia asks. Clarke holds up the dildo. Gaia nods. “Let’s get started then.”</p>
<p>Gaia drops a bag to the ground and starts pulling candles of varying size out of it. Clarke helps her arrange them into a ring and light each one. In the centre of the circle, Gaia lays a white blanket, then gestures for Clarke to lie down on it. For the first time, it occurs to Clarke that she’ll have to do this <em>in front </em>of Gaia. Her cunt throbs at the thought of being watched. Will Gaia be able to see Bellamy? Or will it just look like Clarke is furiously masturbating?</p>
<p>Clarke lies down on the blanket, clutching the dildo. She’s wearing a white long-sleeve lace dress—it seemed like the kind of thing she should wear to a ritual like this, though Gaia herself is just wearing jeans and a black hoodie.</p>
<p>“Should I start?” Clarke asks.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Gaia says. “And then I’ll start the spell. You should be able to feel it building—if all goes well, you and the spell should climax at the same time.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Clarke says. Her throat is dry, her heart racing. She’s nervous, and excited.</p>
<p>She slips the dildo between her wet folds—she hadn’t bothered with panties tonight. Bellamy appears on top of her. Her heart squeezes affectionately, and she smiles up at him.</p>
<p>“Hello,” he says, in that deep voice of his. “We’re not alone,” he notes.</p>
<p>“No,” Clarke agrees. “Gaia is here.”</p>
<p>Bellamy’s face falls. Clarke can hear Gaia start to chant in what sounds like another language—not a language she recognises.</p>
<p>“So this is it then?” he whispers hoarsely. He looks pained. “I thought we had more time.”</p>
<p>“We will,” Clarke promises him. “Gaia isn’t here to exorcise you or whatever. We’re going to try and bring you back to life.”</p>
<p>He hesitates. “Clarke…”</p>
<p>“What?” she asks desperately. “Don’t you want that?”</p>
<p>“Of course I do—I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. People don’t just come back from the dead. It defies all logic.”</p>
<p>“Nothing is logical about this,” she points out. “My love for you defies logic, defies the laws of nature. I’m going to bring you back to life. So fuck me, and make it fucking good.”</p>
<p>Bellamy laughs. “Yes, ma’am.”</p>
<p>He kisses her as he hikes her dress up to her waist. His hands rove over her stomach, up to her breasts, squeezing them, moulding them with his hands.</p>
<p>“You’re wetter than ever,” he says. “Does it turn you on knowing someone is watching?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Clarke admits.</p>
<p>“Naughty girl,” he admonishes lightly. “You’re such a kinky little thing, aren’t you? Always want my big cock inside you. Want to show your pussy off to your friends, huh? Is that why you did all this?”</p>
<p>Clarke whimpers as he fucks her, his tone and breathing unaltered by his strong thrusts, while Clarke is already panting like she’s in heat.</p>
<p>“Let’s see your pretty tits too,” he growls. He slides his big hands into the neckline, then rips the lace away from her chest, revealing her hardened nipples. Clarke flushes, knowing Gaia is watching her bouncing tits. She wonders again what this looks like to Gaia—whether she can see Bellamy or not, Clarke must be quite the sight.</p>
<p>Clarke’s moans drown out the mutterings of Gaia’s spell, but she can feel the words all the same. Slowly building, just as there’s something building inside her with each thrust of Bellamy’s cock. The candlelight flickers, and an owl hoots somewhere nearby.</p>
<p>Bellamy is grunting now, hammering into her like they’re in one of his films. Her pussy sounds impossibly wet, she’d be embarrassed if she weren’t so fucking horny, if she weren’t on the precipice of an earth-shattering orgasm.</p>
<p>Gaia’s voice gets louder, more intense.</p>
<p>“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Bellamy groans. “Gonna come inside your pussy, baby.”</p>
<p>Clarke is right there with him. She usually comes long before he does, but maybe something about the magic of Gaia’s spell is spurring him on, or perhaps he just likes the idea of being watched too.</p>
<p>His mouth meets hers again, possessive and demanding, his tongue stifling her moan. She comes as Gaia’s spell reaches its crescendo, and she thinks Bellamy comes too, from the way he moans and shudders against her. The candles shudder out, as if a gust of wind extinguished them, though the night is completely still.</p>
<p>It’s silent, other than Clarke and Bellamy’s ragged breathing. Did it work? She can still see him, illuminated faintly by the moonlight. She can still feel him, holding her down, his cock inside her.</p>
<p>She begins to realise she can feel his come inside her, and her stomach flips over—she could never feel that before. He feels heavier, more solid. She can feel the beat of his heart, the rhythm of his pulse.</p>
<p>She laughs. He’s alive, he’s really alive.</p>
<p>“Bellamy,” she whispers through her laughter. “I think it worked.”</p>
<p>“Did it?” he asks, breathless.</p>
<p>“It did,” Gaia says proudly. “Just wait until the coven hears about this.”</p>
<p>“I thought you weren’t witches.”</p>
<p>“Oh no, we’re definitely witches,” she says. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” She wanders off into the woods, and Clarke turns her attention back to the beautiful man on top of her.</p>
<p>He shifts, and Clarke’s heart clenches as he slips out, terrified he might disappear again. But he doesn’t. He’s right there in front of her, real, and warm, and <em>alive</em>.</p>
<p>His eyes trail over her body. She sits up, letting her skirt fall back down, then crossing her arms over her chest self-consciously.</p>
<p>He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”</p>
<p>Clarke laughs bashfully. “I don’t know. I’ve never had you just—look at me before.”</p>
<p>“I hope we’ll get to do a lot of things we haven’t done before.”</p>
<p>“Oral?”</p>
<p>Bellamy snorts. “I kind of meant going out for lunch, but yeah, that too.”</p>
<p>“Are you going to take me on a lunch date?” Clarke teases.</p>
<p>“Considering I just got back from the dead and don’t even have a set of clothes, let alone money to pay for lunch, I think <em>you’ll </em>be taking <em>me </em>out on a lunch date.”</p>
<p>Clarke chuckles. “Okay,” she says. “I’d like that a lot.”</p>
<p>He leans forward, brushing his lips against hers. His stomach grumbles, and he groans in embarrassment. Clarke ducks her head to hide her laugh.</p>
<p>“And that’s how you know you’re really alive,” she says. She tilts her head. “Do you feel alive?”</p>
<p>“More alive than I ever felt before I died,” he says huskily.</p>
<p>“Come on,” she says, taking his hand and pulling him up from the ground. “I think I have frozen pizza at home.”</p>
<p>“I’ll take some of that pizza!” Gaia yells from somewhere nearby.</p>
<p>Clarke feels like she can’t really say no, considering the woman just brought her porn star ghost boyfriend back from the dead. It’s the least she owes her.</p>
<p>Bellamy wraps the blanket around his hips, and the three of them make their way back to Clarke’s house.</p>
<p>“So, Bellamy,” Gaia asks, picking the pineapple off her pizza. “Are you going to go back to doing porn?”</p>
<p>“I think I’m done with that,” he says. “It was fun for a bit, but not that fulfilling. I think my first order of business is to fix up this wreck of a house Clarke has been living in.”</p>
<p>“Well, if you need a job, I’m happy to hire you at my shop. I don’t know many other people willing to hire someone who’s legally dead.”</p>
<p>Bellamy grins. “I’d like that.”</p>
<p>“What about your sister?” Clarke asks.</p>
<p>He shrugs at that. “She thinks I’m dead. How do I make contact with anyone from my old life without scaring them? Perhaps it’s better just left alone.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Clarke says, taking his hand. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll help you figure out a way. I’ll be there with you.”</p>
<p>He smiles gratefully. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Should we watch a movie?” Gaia asks, painfully unaware that she’s outstayed her welcome. And yet, Clarke finds herself smiling. Perhaps she finally has a friend in this town.</p>
<p>“What movie?” Clarke asks.</p>
<p>“I hear your boyfriend has quite the selection of films to choose from.”</p>
<p>Clarke hits her with a cushion, and Gaia cackles. “Time for you to go,” Clarke says.</p>
<p>“I was wondering when you’d kick me out,” Gaia says, picking herself up off the couch. “See you at work tomorrow, Bellamy,” she winks, and then she’s gone.</p>
<p>Clarke turns back to Bellamy. “Now, I believe there was a promise of oral?”</p>
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